Leading You Home
by MinervasBibliophage
Summary: Minerva McGonagall chose her fate, but, despite knowing it was the right choice, is still often afflicted with self-doubts, wondering about the path not taken. Throughout the years she contemplates if it was worth it to follow the blue lights in the forest.
1. Chasing Lights

**A/N: So this is my first multi-chapter (or fanfic in general really) and I hope that won't be painfully obvious as you read it (forgive me, readers, I know not what I do). Anywho, I just had this little idea that's a bit of a mishmash of the books, the movies, Pottermore, and me making up stuff. Hope you enjoy it!**

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**Prologue: Chasing Lights**

The full moon illuminated the whole of the manse and the border of the nearby forest that Scottish summer night, throwing the shadows into sharp relief and lending the area a silvery sheen. Wearily making his way up the path to his home, the minister turned his head towards a moving shadow he saw out of the corner of his eye. His forehead creased in confusion, was it his imagination or did that little silhouette look familiar?

"Minerva?" he called out disbelievingly. He was still under the impression that his exhaustion was merely playing tricks on his eyesight, it was rather late for his five year old daughter to be out.

The small shadow stopped abruptly and slowly turned around, its little voice squeaked with the fear of being caught out of bed and out of house, "Dad? I thought you were sleeping."

He frowned at her, "No, though that's what you should be doing right now. I went to Old Mr. Wilkinson's; his family thought it would be a comfort if I was with him as he passed on."

She cocked her head to the side, "Did he go on a trip?"

He sighed, his tiredness returning with the idea that he really didn't want to have this conversation with her tonight, "No, lass. But what are you doing out in the middle of the night? It's way past your bedtime. Come on let's get inside."

She looked back to the forest regrettably before running through the tall grass towards her father. He swung her up into his arms and continued his walk home at a slower pace than before.

"Now would be a good time to explain yourself, lass," he prodded her.

"I saw a will o' the wisp," she said quietly. Seeing his wrinkled forehead, she continued, "It looks like a little blue light ball. I saw it through the window all the way in the forest. I wanted to see if I could catch it, it was really pretty and just like how Mum says it is in her stories."

Her voice had been getting more animated as she continued her explanation, most likely suffused with the hope that he would be too tired or disbelieving to punish her. He needed to talk to Isobel about telling these stories to Minerva, "That's no excuse to go running off in the forest; it's even more dangerous at night. And most likely it was somebody's torch, maybe a hunter or someone camping. Will o' the wisps don't exist, and even if they did, gallivanting around the forest in the dark serves no purpose."

She scowled at him and retorted crossly, "They do to, Mum said they do." He had turned his face away from her so she wouldn't see his eyes roll. Then she added matter-of-factly as though it were the most obvious thing, "I was going to follow it, because that's what they're for: following. That's why it came to me, so I could follow."

He stopped and looked down at her in his arms, his voice incredulous, "And pray tell where it was you were going to follow this phantom light?"

Minerva stared at him for a second before grinning sheepishly, "I forgot where. But I am supposed to follow them!" This time he didn't bother trying to hide his eye-roll.

At that moment a loud drawn-out howl sounded from a distance. Hearing it, the little girl scrabbled out of her father's arms, trying to stand up, and leaned half her body over his shoulder. He tried grasping at her, scared that she was going to fall over and crack open her skull on one of the stepping stones.

"Did you hear that?" she was saying excitedly.

"Of course I heard that! What are you doing?" he said exasperatedly, trying to regain balance.

"It was a werewolf! I know it was! It was howling at the full moon, just like Mum's stories!"

Resigning himself to her leaning all over him, he resumed his slow walk, "I'm sure it was Mrs. Peterson's dog howling at a stray cat… or Mr. Peterson coming home from the pub."

She beamed down at him and completely disregarded his rebuttal, "I bet that's where the will o' the wisp was going to take me, to the werewolf so I could calm it down and save the village from being bitten!"

"No such things as werewolves and will o' the wisps," he muttered to himself, knowing that she wouldn't listen, before saying out loud, "I don't see how much help you would be, lass. With your temper, you'd be helping the creature bite every villager, not stopping it."

She frowned at him, and he realized she looked just like him with that expression, "That was only one time, and Kyle Richards kept pulling my braid during Sunday school, it was his fault!"

"There's no excuse for biting hard enough to almost draw blood," he said sternly, "You're the minister's daughter; you're supposed to set an example. Starting with no fights in the churchyard and including no running into the forest after make-believe creatures."

"They are to real," she muttered stubbornly as he set her on the doorstep.

He stepped back and was about to tell her that none of it was real and that she could expect her punishment in the morning when the door suddenly swung open. Isobel stood in the doorway, her bathrobe hanging loose exposing her nightgown and her eyes wide with fright. She swooped down on Minerva holding onto her tightly and hoarsely whispered into her raven hair, "You scared me half to death, child." She put her daughter at arm's length and looked at her questioningly, "What were you doing outside? And why are you only wearing a nightgown? You could catch a cold."

"I- I- I saw a light and I thought it was a will o' the wisp," she said ashamedly as though she had just realized how thoughtless it was to go running off into the night.

Robert looked down at Minerva's bowed head, and thought to himself that it was strange how she was so sure of what she was following when she was explaining it to him, but appeared to have doubts when telling her mother. He wasn't sure if it was because Isobel was the expert on such things or if it was her reaction to the situation. Glancing at his wife, the minister expected her to rebuke the young girl, to tell her how foolish she had been and that she should never do that again because will o' the wisps are most certainly not real. Instead, she stood up again, clutched her daughter's hand and led her back to her bedroom. Closing the door behind them, he quietly followed the two and watched from the nursery door as the mother tucked in the daughter.

She brushed back the little girl's long hair, and softly said, "Minerva, I want you to promise me that you'll never do that again."

"But, Mum, I'm supposed to follow them. You said I had to follow them," she responded so sadly that Robert could practically hear the tears welling in her eyes. "You said."

He could see that Isobel looked stuck, how could she possibly explain why; she would have to tell Minerva the truth. In his opinion, it was the only way.

"Do you remember why I said that you had to follow the will o' the wisps?" Minerva gave a small shake of the head, and with a warm smile Isobel continued, "I thought not. You have to follow will o' the wisps because they show you where you are supposed to be. And where are you supposed to be in the middle of the night?"

"In bed," she answered in a small voice.

"Exactly, so obviously that wasn't a will o' the wisp you were trying to follow."

He had to commend her; she managed to make their daughter see logic while keeping her fairy tales intact. While he would prefer that she just put this nonsense out of her head, this was a good start. With this train of thought, he wasn't expecting what came next.

"But then what was it?"

"Something that leads you astray: a hinkypunk."

His jaw dropped but he caught himself and closed it, his forehead wrinkled. She was definitely making this up.

"A hinkypunk?" the little voice sounded confused.

"Yes, dear, a hinkypunk. They're these little one-legged creatures that look like they're made out of mist and they carry a lantern to lead travelers astray. So you shouldn't be going out so late at night because there are lots of hinkypunks in the forest that will make you lose your way, and then I'll miss you terribly because I cannot find you, and you'll be scared because you can't find your way home." She brushed back her hair again before looking her straight in the eyes, "Will you promise me, Minerva? Promise that you won't follow the lights in the forest?"

"I promise, Mum."

Robert turned from the doorway and went down the hall towards his own bedroom. He was nonplussed that Isobel would cover up her fairy tales with even more tall tales. And how did she come up with a hinkypunk? A creature of mist carrying a lantern, that didn't even sound possible. He shook his head at Minerva's gullibility and Isobel's attempts to keep her innocence. Most families had Father Christmas; they had will o' the wisps, hinkypunks, and werewolves.

He had just gotten into bed when Isobel slipped in through the door, quietly closed it, and then leant up against it. She let out a long sigh, as if she just had a close call.

"I can't believe you lied to her," he said with some minor reproach.

She pushed herself off the door and padded over to her side of the bed, "I know, but I didn't know how else to keep her from leaping out of bed at the first sight of a firefly in the forest."

"Telling the truth might have been a good start. Honestly, a hinkypunk? Where did you even get that from?"

His wife turned to him in confusion, "What? That wasn't the lie; hinkypunks are real. I lied about them being in the forest. They lead travelers astray in peat bogs and marshes; as far as I know, I don't think they live in any forest let alone ours."

He stared at her in disbelief then slowly turned onto his back, "Never mind, dear, I don't even want to know."

They lay there in silence for a while, each brooding over the scare their daughter had given them and the ways that they had dealt with it and how their spouse had reacted to their way of resolving the issue.

He broke the quiet with what she might think was a non sequitur, "You're going to have to explain death to Minerva tomorrow."

She turned towards him; he could see the tears in her eyes from the moonlight streaming in through the window, "Mr. Wilkinson?" He gave a nod in affirmation. "She's going to be heartbroken. She loved visiting him and seeing him at the church services, he'd always split a ginger newt with her, even after she bit Kyle."

"I think you mean ginger nut."

"That's what I said," she responded absentmindedly. "Maybe it'll make her feel better if we make some biscuits for his funeral service. Ginger newts were always their favorite."

He didn't bother correcting her again, "I'm sure his children will appreciate the thought."

In the nursery, Minerva rolled over in her bed and faced the window. She could see the dark forest, a handful of trees visible in the moonlight while the rest were little more than black shadows. Stupid hinkypunks, she thought to herself, she wanted to know where she was supposed to be. She wasn't so sure about where she was now, it was like it didn't feel right. Her father was always trying to dissuade her from believing what he called "her mother's fairy tales," and her mother would tell her that he just didn't understand. Minerva reached out her hands towards the bookshelf on the other side of the room; her black cat plush toy floated towards her open arms. She hugged it tight. She could still vaguely remember when Old Mr. Wilkinson had given it to her for her third birthday. He told her that he got it for her because he remembered how much she liked playing with his old tabby Mr. Tibbs and its fur was as dark as her hair. She hoped that he was okay, he had a very bad cough last time she saw him. He had told her that she would have to break the biscuit in two because he didn't want to get his germs on her half. It made her proud that he would trust her with something so important; the biscuit breaker always had to be fair, especially when it was hard. Because of that she gave him the bigger piece; she wasn't very good at splitting and it was only fair. Maybe Daddy was lying and he did go on a trip, probably to the coast so the ocean air could make him feel better. She scrunched her forehead in thought, but why would he lie? He probably didn't want her bothering the Wilkinson children (who weren't really children which she thought was odd) about him getting her a souvenir. She snuggled into her blankets, satisfied with the conclusion that she had reached. Minerva decided she would ask about him tomorrow, and then she could let them know that she wanted a pretty shell from the coast. And hopefully a tin of ginger newts to split between them. She never understood why he seemed to chuckle at her when she called them that. And with that random thought, Minerva drifted off to sleep.

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**A/N: As an American I don't really know much by way of British slang, but I try to make an effort of appearing like I do (that was my apology for whenever it's overtly obvious). Flashlights are called torches in the UK (just in case you thought he was talking about a flaming stick). Also, ginger newts are a parody of ginger nuts which is the British equivalent for what Americans call ginger snaps (just wanted to throw in that little fun fact). A review would be lovely, please and thank you. Criticisms are just as appreciated as compliments so long as there's reasoning so I know where I could improve.**


	2. The Dark Forest

**A/N: Wow. I apologize for being really bad with updating. I am incredibly sorry about that, but I am grateful for the reviews and your continued interest in the story. Hope you enjoy it and that it lives up to expectations (or doesn't fall too far from your expectations).**

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**Chapter 1: The Dark Forest**

He asked her. He, Dougal McGregor, asked her, Minerva McGonagall. He actually asked her, and she still couldn't believe it. She was walking back on the lonely country road to the manse when the giddiness overtook her again. She twirled in a circle, arms outstretched and holding on to her tartan shawl so it wouldn't go flying off. Her smile just couldn't seem to leave her face. Minerva looked over the empty fields of heather towards the setting sun. Maybe she should have stayed a while longer with Dougal like he suggested; it would have been a wonderful ending to such a perfect day. She shook her head at herself; since when was she such a romantic? He had pleaded with her to stay, and she had almost given in, but she knew her parents wouldn't want her coming home so late.

Her excitement started to die a little. She hadn't thought of her parents at all. They probably hadn't realized that her relationship with Dougal was serious enough to warrant an engagement. She wasn't even sure if they liked him. Her father was courteous to him, but he was the minister, he was supposed to be genial with his congregation. Then again, every time she brought up Dougal and his ambitions for the family farm, Robert McGonagall would usually turn his attention to something else. And her mother would usually smile, nod her head, and generally act supportive, but Minerva now wondered if it was an act to hide the fact that she didn't think they would last.

The sun, or what little of it could be seen over the treetops, was casting long shadows on the ground by this time. Her steps had slowed perceptibly as she approached the manse, her new train of thought having unsettled her. What if they didn't approve of the marriage? Could she still go through with it knowing that she'd be defying her parents? Or maybe she should heed them; after all, they'd had a long marriage so they should know whether or not she could handle it. Oh Merlin, their marriage, she thought with a sudden horror. Their marriage was built on lies. There was love she knew, but sometimes she wasn't sure about the trust. That's when it clicked in her mind. Minerva would have to do the same to Dougal. She would have to lie, any children they might have would have to lie, and all she could do was hope that he never found out.

Minerva hadn't even noticed that she had started running, trying to choke back her sobs and hold in her tears. She felt like a small child again trying to run from the bogeyman, but now she was trying to run from her thoughts, from reality trying to destroy her dreams. Running full-tilt towards the forest where she spent most of her happiest childhood memories and often sheltered from her worst, Minerva forgot that her parents would be none too pleased at her coming home after dark. All she knew was that the farther and faster she ran, the less likely that the thoughts could catch her again.

The low-hanging branches would catch at her dress and tug on her loose bun as she made her headlong rush into the depths of the forest. When her strength began to flag and her lungs burn, she came to a stop in a small clearing and assessed the damages. Her hair was in complete disarray and her arms and face had small scratches on them. As she lifted up her arms to fix her hair and maybe untangle a few twigs and leaves, she dropped them down again in defeat. Damn, when did she lose her shawl? She turned around in a slow circle to get her bearings. Well, the shawl was nowhere in the vicinity, and she wasn't really sure where this vicinity was exactly. Merlin save her, she was lost and alone in the forest at night and no one even knew she was here. Her father would certainly have some choice words for her, if she managed to find her way back.

She turned back the way she came, maybe she could follow the path of broken twigs and trampled underbrush to get out. Oh Godric, were those eyes in the bushes!? Minerva stood frozen in place, green eyes wide with fear staring at the eerie blue eyes staring back. They almost seemed hauntingly familiar while at the same time completely unnatural. She let out a deep breath (when had she started holding it?) and tried to calm herself and take control of the situation. It wouldn't do to lose her head in the forest. She inwardly grimaced at her poor choice of words; figuratively lose my head, figuratively, she told herself. Minerva slowly reached towards her wand (Idiot, you could have used the four-point spell. Oh, shut it.), trying not to make any sudden movements. With any luck, she could cast a Protego charm and hope it was enough to keep the creature from giving immediate chase.

That's when the eyes got bigger, coming closer. Or at least one of them did. What the Hades kind of animals lived in the forest, she thought, her confusion replacing her fear. And then it floated into the clearing, a single glowing orb of blue light, its companion still in the bushes. Minerva relaxed marginally, what could a ball of light do to her? But what was it? Her mind quickly went through the last seven years of Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures classes trying to figure out what they were. Just as the second light came bobbing into the clearing, her memories hit upon the answer, but not from Hogwarts, from much earlier.

"Will o' the Wisps," she whispered in a mix of disbelief and reverence.

She remembered them from her mother's stories; they were the benevolent cousins of hinkypunks and were infinitely more useful. While they led travelers further into the bogs and marshes with their lanterns, will o' the wisps led lost souls to their fate with their pulsating blue glow that vaguely resembled flames. All doubts fled her mind, the will o' the wisps were here to decide her fate, of that she was sure. She reached out to the closest one but it quickly floated several meters away from her. Just as she started to walk towards the second it floated even farther than the first. Minerva smiled to herself, this was all the confirmation she needed; they were going to help her. Wiping the half-dried tear tracks from her face she followed the blue orbs leading her deeper into the darkening forest.

After a few minutes passed she slowed her walking to a more reasonable pace to accommodate the underbrush on the path that was little more than a deer trail. She pondered where the will o' the wisps were leading her since she'd never been this deep in the forest before and whether she would understand its significance to her fate. Her mind inundated itself with possibilities. Maybe they'd take her to the McGregor farm or they might be less heavy-handed with their decision and lead her to a village to show she must live the muggle life. Different scenarios played out in her head for the will o' the wisps to choose love but somehow she could not imagine a single one for magic. At first she triumphantly thought to herself that they would lead her home for magic before she came to the abrupt conclusion (as she had an abrupt fall over a log) that that seemed more akin to McGregor due to her stifled home environment.

Paying more attention to her surroundings so as not to stumble again, Minerva cast out for more pleasant thoughts to make the time pass without making her anymore anxious. Her mind soon settled on the stories she was raised on. The long journeys of the Hogwarts Founders before they decided to build the castle and start the school; Morgan le Fey; Bowman Wright's revolution of quidditch; the Lady of the Lake and Avalon; the Three Brothers. And finally, Merlin, the greatest wizard of all time and the greatest point of contention her father had with her childhood stories. She no longer noted the passage of time as she thought fondly of her memories while she absentmindedly ducked under branches, climbed over moss-covered boulders, and jumped over trickling creeks. Minerva noticed that her path became easier and stopped, confused by the starry sky showing through the thinning branches; it felt like an eternity had passed but it looked like it had been little more than an hour. Seeing the bobbing blue orbs ahead of her, she walked swiftly towards them thinking she was at the forest's edge and her journey's end. Instead she found herself at the edge of a clearing where she stopped again shocked by the sight in front of her.

She stared at the looming stones set in a great circle, barely giving thought to the will o' the wisps that had continued unheedingly into the center of the circle. Still in awe she forced herself to catch up to her companions. They floated away from her almost as though to give her center stage and a better view. Minerva gazed around herself turning in a slow circle trying to soak in the history of her land and the magic of lost legends that seemed to thrum in the air; she could practically hear it singing to her. She could feel it filling her, the happiness and the relief of a completed pilgrimage. That's when Minerva came to the realization that throughout her journey while she felt that every path led to McGregor she continued, looking for the one path to magic. And the only time she had peace of mind was when she was thinking of what her mother playfully called the "stories of their people." She twirled around in a quick circle with her arms outstretched, elated that it was over. Minerva looked to the pulsating blue lights that began to drift towards her. She tentatively reached out to the first one but it blinked out of existence, and somehow she wasn't surprised by that. With a brief smile she turned to the second and pronounced, "Magic. I choose magic." The soft blue orb seemed to glow brighter as it came towards her and then right into her. She could feel the magic as it seemed to flow through her veins and pump through her heart while her adrenaline crescendoed all in a split second. Minerva opened her eyes from the receding ecstasy and glanced down at her chest where the light had entered and saw it fading. Looking up and finding herself in a different area of the woods, she noticed the will o' the wisp that she felt certain was the one that disappeared. Gathering her skirts, she ran towards the ball of light that pulsated so cheerfully it made her spirits soar. As she drew closer the will o' the wisp faded into the ether and left her looking past the forest's edge towards her childhood home.

Minerva began her trek across the field to reach the path that led to her house. She was happy, contemplating all the preparations she'd have to make for living in London, but with each step her euphoria seemed to come down from its lofty heights. Soon she was standing in front of her doorstep feeling ill at ease; her decision was made, how could she still be unsure about it?

"Oh dear," she muttered sadly, "I have to tell Dougal."

And with that thought, she entered her home for the night, dreading what she would have to do tomorrow: break the heart of the man she loved so she wouldn't have to lock away her wand.

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**A/N: I wasn't too sure about a couple parts, whether they were too vague or just not properly described. Let me know what you think so far, and thank you for taking the time to read my story!**


	3. Almost There

**A/N: I am so incredibly sorry that it's taken this ridiculously long to post this chapter. For some reason I was having difficulty with this bit, and then my muse went and regenerated. And by regenerated I mean that it turned into a Whovian. Which was obviously unfortunate since I have the rest of the chapters and a few one-shots in various stages of editing and revision. Though really it was this one chapter that was giving me issues. I've pretty much finished the whole thing. So yeah... Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2: Almost There**

She picked up the open letter on her desk for the umpteenth time, checking to see if it was real. She was being promoted. Almost two years at the Ministry and Minerva was already going up the corporate ladder. But why wasn't she happy? She tossed the parchment back onto her desk again then sat down in her chair. She should be happy, it was what she wanted. That's why she came to London, to make her way in the magical world. Minerva stared at the letter, _now what?_ She should answer it, that's what she needed to do.

Seizing upon the idea like it was a lifeline, she picked up her quill and began writing, but only got as far as the heading. Did she really want this? Was she writing a letter of affirmation or declination? But if she declined then what would she do, what was the point of staying in this rut? She could possibly work at a shop in Diagon Alley. Minerva shook her head at herself, was she actually contemplating this? She left her home for this, she left Dougal for this. And now she was going to throw it away to be a shop girl? No. That wasn't Minerva McGonagall. She chose magic so magic it would be.

Putting quill to paper, she ended her internal monologue and wrote a completely different letter. When she finished it, she stuffed it into an envelope and walked briskly to where the owls were kept before she could change her mind. Minerva chose one with care, taking into account the distance it would have to travel. Just barely keeping her nerves in check, she handed the owl the sealed envelope, and told it, "Deliver to the Hogwarts Headmaster, please." The owl gave a low hoot then took off to the window.

As the owl's wings gathered wind beneath it to help it soar, she felt suddenly lightened. Now she would have to explain to her boss that she didn't want her job anymore. Was there even a position open for her at Hogwarts? Damn, she would probably be a shop girl regardless.

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She stood nervously at his door, still unsure of what she would tell him. It was an excellent opportunity, she should be happy she was considered, and now she was throwing it back at him. And Minerva wasn't sure how to do it tactfully because there really was no reason for it. Anybody would take the opportunity in a heartbeat. Swiftly rapping on the door before she lost her nerve, Minerva tried not to overthink it. _Just say the first thing you can think of._ Elphinstone Urqhart's voice sounded from the other side, telling her to come in. She let out a shuddering breath, forcing herself to calm down, then turned the knob and stepped into the office.

Elphinstone had a smile on his face as he set aside some papers and took off his glasses, "Hello, Minerva, fancy seeing you here. What can I do for you?"

"I chose magic, but this isn't magic," she blurted out. Okay, maybe not the best opening gambit.

His smile turned quizzical, "What are you talking about, Minerva?"

"This is politics and bureaucracy, red tape everywhere." Somehow she was incapable of explaining herself and was coming across as frazzled. She really should have rethought that 'say the first thing you can think of' strategy.

Now he just looked concerned, "Are you all right?"

"I choose magic." What the hell was wrong with her? Could she say nothing coherent?

"What?" his confusion easily replaced the concern. He glanced off toward the side, as if his calendar could explain the situation to him.

"I chose magic, but this isn't it so I'm choosing it again. I'm choosing magic again," Minerva explained earnestly even though it was hardly an explanation judging by Elphinstone's face.

They stared at each other for a few moments before he finally responded, "I'm afraid I don't understand you."

"I'm not taking the promotion," she said quickly. Yes! It was finally out! She probably should've started with that. Though actually, 'Hello, Elphinstone, how are you doing?' might've been better.

"But, Minerva, you've earned it," he answered incredulously, "you're moving up. Why would you want to stay here?"

"I'm not- I'm- I'm- I'm done," she managed to stammer out before plowing ahead, "I resign, I give my two weeks' notice, however it works, all I know is I'm not working here."

"What are you going to do?"

Minerva laughed then, almost giddy at how ridiculous this situation and her motivations were, "I have no idea. I'm going to go find the magic."

"You're in the Ministry of Magic, how hard is it to find?" he was shaking his head now disbelievingly.

"This is paperwork, not magic," she quipped pointedly.

He seemed to be struggling with this turn of events as he struggled with his words, "There's more to magic than just- just-"

"Magic?" she finished wryly, her mouth beginning to smirk.

Gesturing his hand toward her, he smiled, she understood him, "Exactly!"

Letting a beat pass, Minerva told him slowly, "You do realize that makes no sense?"

He shook his head, she didn't understand, "Think about it and it will." Releasing a deep sigh, Elphinstone tried again, trying to be empathetic, "I understand that this may not be the glamorous lifestyle you were expecting, but it's the government. It isn't supposed to be glamorous; it's supposed to make a difference. You've just been under a lot of stress lately, it's perfectly normal to feel the pressure especially when you realize that this promotion will add even more pressure." He could see he was beginning to lose her as she opened her mouth to interject, had he sounded patronizing? It might be best to change his tact, third time's the charm, "How about this? I'll take your two weeks' notice under consideration—"

Minerva overrode his argument, "You don't need to consider—"

He held up his hand, effectively cutting her off, "Not done yet. I'll take it under consideration, but if during those two weeks you can't find somewhere better, we'll just put this whole thing behind us and you'll still get promoted. How does that sound to you?"

She stared at him. This wasn't the reception he was expecting. "I don't want special treatment, Elphinstone."

Frowning, he defended himself, "It's not special—"

But she interrupted him again, "If one of the others were to come in here saying they were quitting would you hold their pending promotion for them?"

Staring at her incredulously, he answered her, "They're not the ones going to get promoted though; this is about you."

"Yes, and I don't want special treatment," she stressed, then added succinctly, "After two weeks, I'm done here, even if I don't have a job."

"Minerva, don't be so stubborn."

That statement only seemed to steel her resolve, as she straightened up and answered in clipped tones, "That is all I wanted to say, Mr. Urqhart. I appreciate the consideration for the promotion, but I am afraid I have to decline and will be leaving in two weeks' time. Thank you, and good day." She turned on her heel and pulled open the door.

"Minerva." The door closed on his response.

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A few hours later she was in her little flat, lying on her bed reading _Transfiguration Today_, when it suddenly seemed to click. Oh Merlin, what had she done? It was one thing to make a risky decision like applying for a position she wasn't sure was available for a job she wasn't sure how to do, but then she rejected the incredibly generous safety net Elphinstone was giving her. Minerva threw her head back onto her pillows and let out a groan. She was screwed.

There was a tapping at her window a few minutes later. She looked up from where she was stewing in her idiotic stubbornness. There was an owl perched outside, a very official looking owl. Well, they certainly didn't take their time in sending out rejections. Heaving herself off her bed, Minerva went to one of the drawers to get a box of owl treats before opening the window. The barn owl sailed in with grace. It was a common bird but it held itself in such esteem you would think it was an eagle owl. It was certainly proud to work for Hogwarts. She retrieved the envelope from its outstretched leg, paying no attention as it hopped over to the bowl of treats she had set. Her heart was pounding in her chest. They responded too soon, it had to be a rejection. She couldn't open it, she couldn't do it.

Minerva put the unopened envelope on the table, staring at it as if it were a Howler about to explode. She glanced up to see the owl giving her a strange look, almost like disgust at her cowardice. Giving it a stern glare, that might have come off as a bit petulant, Minerva picked up the envelope again. Honestly, it didn't matter if it was a rejection, she couldn't possibly get any lower after being intimidated by a bloody owl.

Slowly pulling out the parchment, she noticed that the heading stated it was from the Deputy Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. He was Minerva's favorite professor while at Hogwarts, and he seemed to like her as well. She wasn't quite so egotistical to claim being his favorite student, but she was sure he at least enjoyed her company. That was good. It would be a friendly rejection.

She started reading the letter slowly, savoring the final moments before her world fell apart. It was trivial conversation, words to fill the space. How Hogwarts was faring, how Dippet had come to a rather difficult decision after much deliberation, how he was happy to hear from her. Then she saw it. That one word, the most important word._ Congratulations._

Minerva stared in shock. She couldn't read anymore. Her cognitive abilities had disengaged and now even breathing seemed beyond her capabilities. Time seemed to jerk to a sudden stop, everything but the letter in her hand and the simple word scrawled out in blue ink ceased to exist, like she was standing in a vacuum. _Congratulations._

And then just as suddenly, the universe rebooted and she was screaming as she leapt about her tiny flat. Not even the barn owl's screeching and haphazard flight out of the window deterred her. Minerva was laughing even as tears were threatening to escape, her relief was so great. It took her a few minutes to gather herself and for her heart to slow it's racing beats. She took a deep breath and continued reading like nothing had happened, the only giveaway being the stupid grin on her face.

The rest of the letter were just the minor details about her job. Accommodations that would be provided for her as an employee, a brief general overview of her responsibilities, and a request that she schedule a meeting with Dippet and Dumbledore to go over other necessities that were better done in person. By December she could be working at Hogwarts as a sort of Transfiguration apprentice / teacher's assistant hybrid. And by the next school year, Minerva might be able to teach a few classes of her own before finally taking over for him. Dumbledore's parting remark was an inquisition as to whether or not she had Seer's blood running in the family since she was applying for a position that wasn't open yet but soon would be. Minerva chuckled at that. He clearly remembered her disdain for Divination.

She leaned back against the kitchen counter, the letter still clutched in her hand and a content smile gracing her features. This was so incredibly brilliant. And now she had no idea what to do. Her future was set, but she wasn't so sure about the immediate present. She was too excited, too restless, to go back to her _Transfiguration Today_, and she felt like she should do something to celebrate. After all, this certainly deserved some celebration. At the very least she should tell someone. _Elphinstone!_ Minerva had to let him know! She dashed across the small kitchen, giddiness and adrenaline rushing her forward. Grasping the jar of floo powder off the mantle, she kneeled before the fireplace in one fluid motion. _Maybe they could go to the Leaky Cauldron or somewhere, it wasn't too late and something needed to be done to commemorate the occasion._ The flames turned green with floo powder, lighting up the small room and Minerva's excited expression with its green glow as she called out for her friend.


	4. Trading Confidences

**Chapter 3: Trading Confidences**

The letter fell from her hand, unnoticed by her as she sat heavily in her chair, staring disbelievingly at the wall. She could feel her teacher's mask cracking, her eyes beginning to water. Her gaze shifted down to her lap, then to the floor where the letter had innocuously fallen. With a sudden urgency she reached down and snatched it up, rereading it as though that would change the message.

Dougal McGregor was married now.

Minerva tossed the paper onto her desk, put her face in her hands, her elbows on her knees, and let her tears fall. She tried to push back the memories, but they were coming as freely as her tears. Then she heard a soft cough, which made her look up to find the headmaster watching her with concern.

"Are you all right, dear?" he asked, a sense of worry permeating his words.

His voice quickly roused her from her seat, hurriedly wiping away her tears, "Professor Dumbledore, I didn't hear you come in, my apologies." She noticed her hat on the floor, having fallen off the desk with her sudden change in position, and quickly bent down to retrieve it before forcing a small smile of welcome onto her face. "Was there something you needed?"

"Minerva, you've been here for over a year now, and as I've been telling you the whole while, please, call me Albus," he said kindly before adding, "And I believe the real question is if there is anything you need."

She sat down, her legs seemingly unable to support her any longer, "I'm fine, there's nothing the matter, nothing to worry about. Truly, I'm fine," she responded unconvincingly.

He sat down opposite her desk as he returned, "Your tear-stained cheeks tell a different story, my dear, which leads me to conclude that you are most definitely not fine."

She stared at him, uncertain if she should continue. He was her boss after all and may think her an inane individual for crying over a boy she had purposely put aside a few years ago to be where she was now. Seeing the concern in his eyes, she was reminded of all the times she had come to him as a student looking for help with homework or consolation after a poor Quidditch game or an even poorer practice, and soon found herself divulging the whole story to him. Even the trip through the forest following will o' the wisps, which she suddenly thought ludicrous and figured he would think her mad. Her tale was colored throughout with self-doubt and regrets.

At the end of her spiel detailing the last four or so years, she watched him apprehensively and concluded, "I don't know if I made a mistake. I loved him, and would have spent the rest of my life with him, but I didn't want to lie and lock away my wand. I thought he felt the same, but now he's married. I couldn't have made the right choice otherwise I wouldn't feel like this. I was wrong, wasn't I?" The tears welled in her eyes, beginning to fall down her cheeks once more as she waited for his verdict. Minerva felt like a student again, waiting for him to provide solace or to right her wrongs. Her focus was so fully on him that she hadn't even noticed that the letter, the cause of her consternation, had fallen to the floor a second time during her cathartic speech.

Albus paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts together and seemed to weigh his words carefully before he began, "Never doubt this: you made your decision. It was not the will o' the wisps; they merely showed you the truth and gave you the courage to follow through. They also provided a scapegoat if you turned out to be wrong. You ran into the forest crying because you were scared. But you were not afraid of the difficult choice you had to make. You were frightened by how easy it was to make that choice." He sat back in his chair, settling his hands on her desk before continuing, "Remember what I said a few years back, Minerva? The animagus speaks true. You are undeniably a cat; your very nature is feline. Cats are proud and never deign to suffer a fool. But most prominent is their independence. They will give their loyalties to only those who earn it, but they will never give ownership. Locking away your wand and living as a muggle would have been tantamount to giving ownership, giving away your freedom. Magic was truly your only choice; it asked only for your loyalty. If you married Dougal, you would not have been happy, and neither would he for he would have found that he married a different young woman. That bright, witty woman he fell in love with would more likely than not become a bitter woman, mourning her clipped wings and wanting to fly again. You will have your doubts, of that I'm sure, but promise me, Minerva. Promise me that you will never regret it. Promise me that even when it seems as though magic has given you nothing but grief, that you will soar through the heavens and never cage yourself with regrets."

She had been watching him earnestly for his whole speech, her tears forgotten and once again his student, "Am I a cat or a bird, Professor? They are both two very different things, conflicting natures. They're enemies, for Merlin's sake."

He leaned towards her with a smile on his face, "Enemies they may be, but they both want the same thing: their freedom. And as the air is for the birds, and the underbrush for the cats, so is magic for you. You chose freedom, never regret that you didn't choose the cage."

Minerva looked down towards her lap, watching her hands as they kneaded one of the folds of her teacher's robe. Her words came out haltingly, unsure, almost as though she were embarrassed, "Albus . . . why does it matter to you so much?"

She glanced up quickly to see his reaction, but couldn't seem to tear away her gaze once she saw his face. He looked at her with an expression of worry mixed with surprise, "Is it so shocking that I care about you? You were always one of my brightest students, so adept at Transfiguration, and always ready for every lesson." His eyes almost seemed to shine with memories as a small smile formed, "Many wanted to become animagi, but you were the only one whose desire grew after realizing how much work it would take. You relished the challenge as much as you enjoyed the success; there aren't very many people like that, and more's the pity. I knew you would go far." He amended his statement with a proud smile, "I know you will go far. I do not want to see your progress stunted by worry over the path not taken. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." He sat back once more; his voice seemed to become weary, "I need not remind you, Minerva, that I am an old man. I lived a full life before you were born. Believe me when I say that I know the sorrows of the path not taken. It does not matter whether the sorrow is deserved, it still haunts me. But I do not let it burden me; I turn it into a strength. It reminds me to know my path, and that whatever I choose I will stay with it no matter the consequences. It is my path; I chose it so I will accept it."

Minerva felt as though this was the discussion, the moment, that would decide if they had moved past the stage of professor and student, mentor and protégée, and be actual equals. When she asked for a teaching position and was granted it mere hours after she sent the owl, she had known they would be colleagues but didn't feel as though they would be on equal footing. Now it seemed as though the time had come, almost two years later, to see if it was time to take the step up to level ground. And it all rode on whether or not he would answer her simple yet deeply personal question.

"Prof—Albus, what, what was your crossroad? What did you have to choose?" she stammered with uncharacteristic nerves. Minerva watched him, fearful that she was out of bounds.

He gave her a sad smile, "Between love and family," and told her of a summer long ago that was astonishingly happy as he basked in the shared brilliance of his new friend and a better future before it provided heartbreak to most of those involved, tore his family asunder, and ultimately led to a reign of terror across Europe that only he could stop though he was afraid of what he would find.

"I- I am so sorry, Albus," she said with fresh tears on her cheeks. "I can't even comprehend . . . the, the strength it must have taken for you to, to do all of that."

"I am not that strong, my dear, not as strong as you," seeing her shocked expression he expanded his thought, "I was not strong enough to realize what Grindelwald truly was; I denied the truth that was staring me in the face. It took my brother, who was never seen as particularly bright, and the death of my sister for me to see the truth. That is not strength. Strength is looking at the situation and preventing love from clouding your judgment. Strength is choosing the path that is best for you, not the one that feeds your arrogance. Of the two of us, Minerva, you are most assuredly the stronger."

Her blush colored her cheeks, "My choice wasn't as important, Albus."

"It may not seem as though your decision was on the same scale as mine, my need to feel brilliant one summer had a hand in starting a wizarding war, but never doubt its significance," he stated seriously then continued in a more cheery tone, "Now, I find that a friendly chess game tends to alleviate my dour moods. Would you care for a match in my rooms? I haven't had a decent opponent in a long while."

His blue eyes seemed to twinkle with the promise of an exciting game and maybe many more to come, and an unexpected sense of déjà vu seemed to come over her, causing her throat to constrict. His eyes seemed hauntingly familiar. With sudden clarity she could picture the will o' the wisps in the forest that twinkled like stars in the night sky and Albus' eyes. She also realized that she had been staring at him for the past ten seconds having an epiphany while he sat there waiting for her answer.

"Yes, I would love to, thank you," her blush returning though not as deeply as before.

He stood and proffered his arm to her, wearing a seemingly knowing smile, and with a shy smile she took it, not for the first time feeling as though he could read her thoughts. They left her classroom to his private rooms for a pleasant game of chess that was only interrupted by dinner and was resumed late into the night. The letter lay forgotten underneath her desk not to be found until the end of the year when she promptly threw it out.


	5. Sleepless Nights

**A/N: So Matt Smith is going to be regenerating in the Doctor Who Christmas Special and The Red Wedding just happened on Game of Thrones... this weekend sucked. Here, have a chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Sleepless Nights**

Minerva stood in front of the Goblet, watching its flames dance. Mesmerized by the fluid choreography, she didn't notice Albus come in, and was consequently startled when he spoke.

"Ah, Minerva, I should have known you would come here. Wanted to see the impartial judge that would endanger one of your students?"

"So you finally admit this tournament's dangerous? Does that mean we can cancel it?" she asked with a deadpan. When she looked over her shoulder at him, he raised his eyebrow, nonverbally telling her that she really didn't want to have that conversation with him. "I thought not."

She turned back to face away from him while he walked around almost to the other side of the Goblet saying, "Not after all the planning we had to do, getting Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to agree, and correlating with the foreign Ministries. Cornelius Fudge even had to go to the Muggle Prime Minister to inform him about the dragons and sphinx we're importing."

At that, Minerva gave him a sharp look, "And here I thought you were trying to reassure me. Reminding me that there are deadly magical creatures involved is not helping my nerves when I know that one of my students is going to have to face them." She resolutely turned her gaze back to the Goblet, "Students have died before. Why do you think we haven't been able to successfully hold one until two hundred years after it was cancelled? For the death toll."

With the weary voice of a man who'd been over it many times before, "And that is why we added an age restriction, so that we can ensure that the students have a better chance of surviving with a better knowledge of magic." He then added facetiously, "Think of it as an impromptu teaching evaluation."

She looked at him in horror, "Albus, that is not funny! These are lives, children's lives! Not marks on a sheet of paper!" Glaring at his barely concealed grin, she said cynically, "And how exactly do you plan on stopping the under-aged from putting their names in?"

"That is precisely why I am here: to encircle the Goblet of Fire with an Age Line to prevent the younger students from getting close enough to try their luck at breaking the rules." He then took out his wand, as though to prove his point, but paused and looked over at her, "I wonder why it is that you are here, Minerva. I can't imagine that you would watch the Goblet for so long for the sole reason that it might choose a Gryffindor. Is there anything else on your mind?"

"I would care even if it was the most bigoted Slytherin, Albus," she responded defensively. She turned her gaze back to the Goblet with a sigh, a far-off look in her eyes, and an introspective tone in her voice, "I was just thinking about the past and the different paths that have lead us to this point. Sometimes, I wonder if I've chosen the wrong path; things could have been so much simpler. I entered the wizarding world as it was recovering from a war. Managed to live through another war that was started by a - contemporary of mine, had a short but happy marriage, and now we're on the brink of another war," She glanced at him briefly before looking away again, "You're probably wondering why I would even be thinking of this now. When I first saw the Goblet, I had this sudden thought that if I were to scoop out a handful of the blue flames, I could roll it into a ball and make a will o' the wisp. I know it's silly and pointless, but it was just a thought that reminded me of all the heartbreak I got from following two balls of light into a forest. It makes me wonder if it was worth it," she sighed, then seemed to rally herself, "I sound hopelessly maudlin, don't I?"

He looked at her kindly, "It is good to think over the past; it helps prevent us from repeating the same mistakes. But I can honestly tell you that your decision all those years ago was not a mistake. And I'm not just saying that because I would not have been graced with your presence otherwise," he said with a smile. "It would help your state of mind if you thought about all the good that has come from it. Yes, there has been a lot of turmoil in the wizarding world, but in between, you had love, and while it was unfortunately short, you were incredibly happy. I understand that it would've been simpler if you lived the life of a muggle, but you wouldn't have been happy. The life of a farmer's wife would not have provided enough of a challenge for you, and locking away your wand would not have helped; you would have been frustrated with your wasted potential. And while there have been wars, there have also been many minds ready to be molded, each one being their own challenge. You were made to be in the wizarding world, the will o' the wisps only reaffirmed the decision that you had yet to admit to yourself. If nothing else, Minerva, I think the hundreds of students you've taught are reason enough."

She looked at him with an almost teary smile, "Do you always have to be right, Albus?"

"Alas," he said with mock sorrow, "that is my lot in life."

Minerva wiped her eyes as she said, "You told me once, a long time ago, that I would always have my doubts about the path not taken, and that it was normal, but do you think it's strange that I am so fixated on will o' the wisps that they seem to be everywhere?"

"I don't believe I understand your question," he responded slowly.

"I'm standing alone in a room staring at an ancient wooden cup filled with blue flames because it vaguely reminded me of something that happened forty years ago. How do you not understand? You were just asking me this a few minutes ago," she said exasperatedly.

"Well, yes, but this is one instance. You seemed to be implying that this has happened before."

"It's silly, Albus, I'd really rather not say—"

"Says the woman standing alone in a room staring at an ancient—," he stopped at her glare before saying with a twinkling smile, "You're the one that said it, not me."

She sighed then walked towards one of the benches, smoothing out her dress robes as she sat down, more to stave off the inevitable than to keep her wardrobe wrinkle-free. Albus turned back to the Goblet of Fire and incanted the Age Line as Minerva gathered herself. After his full circle around the arcane magical object, he sat next to his colleague. They sat together in silence for a while, the only noise being the flickering blue flames of the Goblet.

"It was a couple of years ago," she said quietly. "That year Quirrel was the Defense professor." Albus always thought it was unfortunate that they recounted years by who held the cursed position rather than by the calendar year like most schools. "I was walking to one of the faculty meetings, a bit late. Which never happens, it wasn't my fault but the Weasley twins had—"

"Of course, my dear," Albus patted her hand understandingly. He never understood why she would get defensive about the few times that she was late, wrong, or unfair. They happened so rarely he didn't bother reprimanding her. Also, she punished herself enough for each minor incident.

"Yes, well, I was on my way there when I thought I saw out of the corner of my eye a will o' the wisp just pop into existence in the middle of the courtyard." Her eyes looked glazed, as though she were seeing it again, "I stopped right in the corridor and turned back to the doorway to see whether I was going mad. And there it was: a shining blue light."

His forehead creased in confusion, "So you did see a will o' the wisp in the middle of Hogwarts?"

"No," she said succinctly, a shadow of the dejection she felt that day showed on her face. "It was just one of Ms. Granger's bluebell flames. She had just put it into a jar to keep Potter, Weasley, and herself warm; it was November after all. I assume I was just walking so fast and was so preoccupied that the flash of blue made me lose hold of my senses. You don't think it means anything do you?"

Albus pondered the question, trying to decide if it was really as strange as she had first thought. It wasn't necessarily a silly occurrence as she had said; it was merely mundane. "I don't believe it would mean anything seeing as she was looking for warmth and not answers, and you were just a witness to a first-year's usage of magic. You were probably just tired of the Weasley twins' antics and simply thought there was a will o' the wisp because how often do magical blue lights appear?"

"Seeing as we live in a world of magic, you'd think it'd be often," she replied sardonically.

"Be that as it may, we don't. So it was obviously a harmless misunderstanding with no consequences. And even if it were a will o' the wisp, there would still be no consequences because it might not have even been there for you," he answered matter-of-factly. Seeing her look away, he asked, "Did you want it to be there for you?" She gave a soundless shrug, "Minerva, there are only so many fate-deciding choices you can make, be glad that you only had to deal with one."

"So it was there for Granger?"

"She conjured it, so yes, it was there for her. But I think she already decided her fate."

"Potter," she stated with a smile, "and Weasley. You know I almost had a talk with her. I never did because I wasn't entirely sure what to say, but I almost talked to her about her lack of friends. Then she was almost killed by a troll and Potter and Weasley saved her with sheer dumb luck." Minerva's smile faded into a grimace as she started listing, "Next thing I know, they're breaking school rules left and right, supposedly transporting illegal dragons, protecting the Stone, flying a car into the Whomping Willow, getting Petrified, killing basilisks and solidified memories in the bowels of the castle, somehow getting caught under the full moon with poor Remus, and I'm sure they have something to do with Sirius and Buckbeak both escaping because it's always those three." She let out a long sigh then slumped forward, "I'm scared, Albus, I'm scared for this year. After everything that's happened to them, I'm sure they'll find some way to top it. It's always those three." He patted her gently on the shoulder and she continued with her musings, "Half the time I'm worried about the Weasley twins and their attempts to get the other students killed, the rest of the time I'm worried about those three and their half-baked plans that almost get themselves killed. It's like the Marauders all over again, except with those four it was being worried the whole time to get all of Hogwarts killed." She leaned her head against him, "Sometimes I think I'm getting too old for this, Albus."

He chuckled, "Don't talk to me about getting old, Minerva; I've had my fair share. You may have been one of my brighter students, but you weren't exactly a saint."

She glared at him, "And neither was I insane, I believe that was Rolanda and occasionally Pomona. Poppy and I had to keep them grounded during their loftier ideas." She smiled at times long past, the shadows of which reappeared often in the summers, "Sometimes I feel as though that was what made Poppy want to become a mediwitch."

The two sat for a few minutes longer staring at the undulating flames before Minerva stood up and turned towards Albus, "Well, it is exceedingly late, and it's going to be a long week worrying about the seventh years who plan on voluntarily signing up to needlessly risk their lives for some galleons and a mention in a history book. If you don't mind, I'm going to bed before you come up with another clever idea to get the students excited for a near-death experience… or worse, actual death."

He rolled his eyes as he stood up next to her, "Dear, it took much longer than a sleepless night to come up with this plan . . . several sleepless nights, actually."

With a twinkling smile he offered his arm which she graciously took, and they strolled out of the room leaving the blue flames crackling into the silence, waiting to consume the names of students attempting to change their fate.


	6. The Deluminator

**A/N: It has been brought to my attention by my under-the-table beta that I should probably have an Author's Note saying when the chapter takes place instead of leaving you guys to figure out my references. This particular chapter takes place at the end of Order of the Pheonix when Minerva's just gotten back from St. Mungo's****. Her and Albus are just having a chat in his office. So yeah... Enjoy!**

**Chapter 5: The Deluminator**

Minerva eased herself onto a newly transfigured chair - she never cared for Albus' own chintz chairs - with as much nonchalance as she could. Albus may have been her dear friend for the past several decades, but that didn't mean she would show the persistent discomfort her hip gave her. It was bad enough that she had to use a cane after that blasted woman ambushed Hagrid and Minerva was quickly dispatched with four stunners. Admittedly, her headlong rush into the fray was foolhardy, but they were in the wrong and Minerva's sense of fair play demanded she rectify the situation. Ugh, she really needed to stop focusing on the past; at least the craven toad was beaten out of Hogwarts by Peeves with her cane. She looked down at the loathsome instrument with semi-fondness; it did have its uses. Albus then came in, saving her from further ruminations.

"Minerva, I was hoping you would stop by this afternoon. Did you enjoy your stay at St. Mungo's?" he asked with some mischief.

She scowled at him, "Of course I didn't enjoy it, and I don't think the Healers enjoyed it either after I came to."

He smiled, "Poppy always said you were an awful patient."

"Only when they fuss all over me, and Poppy is the Queen of Fussy," Minerva huffed with a decisive tap of her cane on the floor. Taking a deep breath, she changed topics, "Speaking of fussy, you really should talk to Severus about kicking a man while he's down. I had to give Gryffindor points just so he could have some to take away. They were well-earned points too," she emphasized as though to assure him that she didn't play favorites, even if it was her own cubs.

"I don't think Severus would appreciate you calling him fussy," his comment earned him a roll of her eyes. "I'll talk to him if you want, but it won't do much good, especially since the school year has already come to a close."

"I know," she sighed, "but I really don't think he should find so much relish in it."

Minerva sat quietly, pondering her colleague and his determination to put Gryffindor House in the negatives for the House Cup. He had been solicitous after the boys had gone, they were friends after all, though she did hold on to the House rivalry telling him that if he kept trying to push Gryffindor out of the running before the new school year even began she would stop letting him win their chess matches. Severus had given her his usual smirk, saying that if she wanted to hold on to that fantasy he would let her since he was the magnanimous winner… and Gryffindor the assured loser. She surprised him then by smiling and telling him she missed their banter; she would savor his stunned expression, it wasn't often she could unsettle him.

Minerva noticed that Albus was waiting patiently for her to conclude her musings.

"So, Albus, what was it you wanted to show me?" she asked, getting to the heart of the matter to make up for her wool-gathering.

He looked pleased at being given the stage; he didn't care much for Minerva and Severus' little squabbles since they were mostly slight grievances that they could sort out themselves if they weren't so stubborn.

"I wanted to show you what I was doing after being exiled by the illustrious High Inquisitor." He heard Minerva mutter an obscenity which he ignored and continued in stride, "Contrary to what I'm sure the staff believes, that I went on Holiday, I was attending to Order business which we'll discuss later, and adding a modification to my Deluminator."

He pulled out a silver instrument that looked oddly like a cigarette lighter.

"The Deluminator? But, Albus, I liked the other name, the Put-Outer," she said with mock sadness though she had difficulty stifling a smile.

It was his turn to roll his eyes at her, "As I said before, that name was a work in progress. I didn't appreciate your laughter then, which was more than the name warranted I might add, and I don't appreciate it now. Returning to my original point, I added an extra function that I thought might interest you."

"And what function can it have other than to put out- oh, I'm sorry, deluminate?" she queried with feigned innocence.

With the air of a suffering martyr, Albus ignored her now open grin and responded simply, "It can illuminate."

"That's hardly a modification, Albus. It already does that when you release the lights," she said wryly.

"That is where you are wrong, Minerva." She stared at him incredulously. "It does not illuminate the physical but rather the spiritual."

She looked at him as if he were out of his mind. "And pray tell how it accomplishes that. It is essentially a canister for light."

He dismissed her unfair assessment of his invention, "Quite easily; it has its own light."

With a small flourish, he tapped the Deluminator with his wand while Minerva continued her argument. "I thought you said it wasn't a physical illumination. That sounds more like an in-case-of-emergency than a modifi-," she gasped, speechless.

Floating between them was a will o' the wisp. And Albus had a smug smile on his face; she really should stop questioning him.

"Albus," she started breathlessly, "how did- how did you catch- I couldn't even reach out and touch one, how did you possibly catch it?" She stared in awe, then having gained some of her bearings added reproachfully, "You aren't honestly keeping it in there, are you?" She glared at him. Will o' the wisps were creatures of pure magic; they were meant to be free.

"Alas, it is not a true will o' the wisp," he said which caused Minerva to take a closer look at the hovering orb of light. "It is merely an illusion since, as you know from personal experience, will o' the wisps cannot be held. Actually, I was quite inspired by your story and used my 'time off' to create this." He sounded proud, while Minerva looked ill at ease with the uncanny resemblance.

"And what exactly is the purpose of this… parlor trick?"

"The same as a will o' the wisp," he responded calmly. "It decides your fate."

Minerva stared at him dumbfounded. She opened her mouth to say something then closed it; he couldn't be serious. And she told him as much.

"Albus, I realize that you're the most powerful wizard in the world, and some even believe that you could rival Merlin, but this? It's a bit much, don't you think? Don't get me wrong, you're a fantastic sorcerer, but you're not exactly a god… Why are you laughing at me?"

He was indeed chortling which started to incite her Scottish temper, but he held up his hand to give himself some time to gather himself and stop her tirade.

"Did you think you would hurt my feelings by telling me I'm not a god?"

"Sorry, Albus, I wasn't sure if you were being surprisingly naïve or overbearingly arrogant," she dryly stated. Still a bit disgruntled that he was finding amusement at her expense, she continued, "So which is it? Should I explain that it's impossible, or should I knock you off your high horse and down a few pegs to assure you that you are most definitely not a god?"

He responded cheerfully, "Neither shall be necessary, but I thank you nonetheless." That earned him yet another eye-roll. "Now, before we resort to blows-"

"I wouldn't hit you," she interrupted. "Though I can't promise I won't take a page out of Peeves' book and use my cane." Her slight smile showed this was her idea of a peace offering.

"How noble of you," he inclined his head in recognition of her form of deference. "Now, I would not be the one to decide fates, and I must admit that that phrase sounds a tad melodramatic. It doesn't necessarily decide fates; it simply takes you where you need to go."

"That sounds like apparition without apparating; that's hardly illuminating." Minerva's skepticism was as evident in her voice as it was on her face.

"That's the difference though. You apparate to where you want to go, but this takes you to where you need to go. So in a sense, it does decide your fate. And it isn't for arbitrary reasons like if you need to run errands; it is for serious issues that could actually affect your fate. You are not simply transported with the click of the Deluminator as if you were releasing a lamp light; it takes a trigger, a very special trigger: love," Albus explained composedly.

She cocked her head in amusement, "Love? Your Delumintor is going to have a field day come St. Valentine's Day, Albus. I think you need to be more specific as that makes almost no sense."

He sat back in his chair, his hands steepled before him as he gathered his thoughts.

"As I said before, I was inspired by your story when you first told me, and I had the whispers of an idea even then. It wasn't fully fleshed out until much later, and only came to fruition this past year. The will o' the wisps helped you decide between love and magic. Being in possession of the Deluminator it would be safe to say that the user has chosen magic, whether or not it was a conscientious decision or as dramatic as your case. With my modification the user would decide their fate in favor of love. As you would also know, it is never too late to choose love."

Minerva looked down towards her lap, lost in memories, absentmindedly twisting her ring. Poor Elphinstone, he didn't deserve to die from a Venomous Tentacula especially after all they'd been through, after what the Wizarding World had been through. And only having three years of marriage, it made her regret even more her reluctance to accept his proposals all those years before. She glanced up quickly to see Albus watching her with kindness in his eyes. Looking back down, she noticed what her hands were doing and clasped them together to keep from fiddling with her ring. She let out a rueful chuckle, turned her gaze back to Albus, who noticed that her eyes had a sheen to them, and said with a soft smile, "Indeed, I do."

With an understanding smile he continued, "The Deluminator is to be used to illuminate their heart so that when they are at the crossroads, they will know where to go; just like you knew where to go when you were at the stone circle. The trigger is the voice of a loved one. It is not necessarily romantic love, it can be familial or platonic, but the voice of a true love tends to be the strongest."

"It's just their voice? There's no special password? A declaration of undying love? Would they have to be quoting Shakespeare? Otherwise you'll be getting random snatches of conversations about the sale at Madame Malkin's or the interest rates at Gringotts," she asked, hoping to use humor to keep the past at bay.

"No, it would be simple. They would have to call them back. A genuine, heartfelt calling, mind you; it wouldn't be fair to choose the path with no one at the end. And conversely, it is just a call, they are not obligated to choose that path but they'll have the choice; just as you could've turned your back at any time on your journey, even when you were at the destination. In short, the purpose is to show that there is a path, and how it is that you can take that path if you so choose," Albus concluded.

"I can't believe you got all of that out of my story; I'm touched," she said with a true smile.

"Your story was particularly extraordinary. I just took it and wrapped it up into a ball of light then put it into my- what did you call it? My canister of light," he smiled at her light laughter.

"Well, it is a remarkable invention, Albus," her face then turned into a questioning expression, "but what use would you possibly have for it? At this point in your life, I would think that you were set on your path, that there were no more crossroads. I know it's true for me, and I don't even have next year's plans set while you seem to have the Wizarding World's movements planned on a chess board all the way to the end game. Is there truly a path that the all-knowing Albus Dumbledore does not know about?" she playfully finished.

"Living up to your name, aren't you?" he said with laughter in his voice, "Yes, it is meant for someone else. Someone who has to decide their fate one way or the other."

She thought to question him further, but decided if he meant to tell her then he would.

"So what else did you do on your jolly little holiday?" Minerva asked blithely.

The two old friends talked well into the afternoon, only stopping when it was time to go down for dinner in the Great Hall.


	7. Constant Vigil

**A/N: This chapter takes place right after The Half-Blood Prince. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 6: Constant Vigil**

The small shadow flitted across the wide lawn just as dusk was falling, its pace set with purpose yet lacking in confidence. With a quick leap onto the base of the white marble tomb, the silver tabby cat wound its way to the other side facing towards the lake and away from Hogwarts. Her ears erect and whiskers twitching, she scanned the surrounding area and, satisfied with her reconnaissance, laid against the cold tomb.

She just lost two of her closest friends; one to the darkness and the other to death. It may be the next great adventure, but he left her behind and she didn't know how she could go on. Minerva knew she would stay for the children, Albus would've wanted that, and so did she, but she couldn't see how life could go on without him. He had always been there, for her, for the students, for the whole of the Wizarding World. He had always been Hogwarts to her. But now he was gone. And so was Severus. How could she have been so wrong about him? How could Albus been so wrong? She had lost two very dear friends that day; she would never see one and would most likely kill the other.

Minerva can barely remember that day; just snippets that stand out sharply, it had been like any other day before. She recalled asking Albus at breakfast if he would like to play chess with her that evening; Severus never seemed to be available anymore so she wasn't able to play as often as she liked. Rubbing her face against her paw, she bitterly thought to herself that now she knew why; he was playing a much different chess game. The headmaster declined since he would be giving Harry his special lessons that night, though he offered Minerva a game either during her break period or the next evening. She told him that they would play both time slots since their matches tended to take an inordinate amount of time and they would need the second day to finish and declare her the winner. Appraising her smug smile, he succinctly swiped her last slice of toast and cheekily replied that he would be amenable to that. The silver tabby curled up into a ball, her chess board was still laid out in her office, their match never completed.

The rest of the day was a blur of unimportance until all hell broke loose and she was fighting for her life against Death Eaters that she had no idea how they could've gotten into Hogwarts. Minerva fought intensely alongside the Order and the core of Dumbledore's Army, her fear heightened by the fact that she hadn't had to fight like this since Voldemort's first reign and never so close to her vulnerable students. Its finish was just as startlingly quick as its beginning and left behind an eerie quiet that unsettled her. When they found Albus at the base of the Astronomy Tower, the world seemed to slow down and everything seemed unreal. But there was no denying it, not with Harry leaning over him, the students gathered around staring just as disbelievingly, and Hagrid's sobs that wracked his whole body. She felt numb and lost. Glancing up, she saw the Dark Mark hanging in the sky and a feeling of utter despondency settled heavily on her. Minerva looked back down to Albus' crumpled body and knew that he wouldn't have wanted her to give up hope like this. She could feel her heart wrenching in her chest and her tears falling freely down her face, but she kept her eyes on him as she raised her wand in the air, its tip a pinprick of light in the darkness. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Poppy raise her wand, its light joining hers, and slowly the students began following their example. Soon the whole crowd was ablaze with upraised wands that illuminated the darkness and erased the Dark Mark overhead. Minerva whispered his name so softly that she could barely tell if it came out or if it stayed in her thoughts. But she could hear loud and clear in her mind, "Please answer my call, Albus, please. This path is always open."

The day of his funeral she had been trying to stay strong; the students needed someone to depend on now that their world had been turned inside out. And the staff seemed just as lost; they appeared to move around in a haze. Walking by the hospital wing she saw Poppy doing her usual end of year inventory. Normally she was quick and efficient, but that day Minerva saw her listlessly counting her rolls of gauze before stopping halfway through and sitting down with her head in her hands. Filius was found in his office, ungraded exam papers strewn across his desk, staring out his window at the morning sun. Pomona didn't go out to the greenhouses, almost as though she didn't want to corrupt her happy place with her gloom. Septima and Charity were talking in hushed voices at the breakfast table as compared to their usual easy laughter and cheerful conversation. And Aurora, who would always be participating in their talks, was sitting quietly and staring heartbreakingly at her barely touched plate, distressed over the tragedy that occurred on the Astronomy Tower, her safe place, her sanctuary. Rolanda, who was always happy to be outside, looked truly apprehensive at the end of breakfast when it was time to leave the Great Hall for the funeral.

Afterwards, when the students were being led to the Hogwarts Express and Minerva was sadly wondering if the students would be able to come back, Ms. Granger approached her. She looked anxious, not the usual confidence that she exuded whenever she entered her office for a farewell for the year. Minerva wearily tried to listen to her but the student kept looking off to the side or would stammer, leaving most of her meaning incomprehensible. She placed her hand on the young girl's shoulder, about to tell her that it was okay, but then Hermione flung herself at her, holding onto her tightly. Minerva stood for a brief second, shocked since Hermione had never hugged her before. Usually the girl gave her thoughts of the past year, asked for reassurance that next year's schedule wasn't too light, and requested summer reading, but now she was holding onto the professor like a lifeline. Minerva wrapped her arms around her student, and, leaning her head into Hermione's voluminous hair, briefly gave into her grief and let her tears fall for the first time that day. Maudlin thoughts overtook her mind then and Minerva found herself contemplating if this was Hermione's final farewell, if she would come back next year. Looking up, she could see Potter, standing about 50 meters away next to Weasley, and the look of determination on his face. She knew her answer. Giving a final squeeze to Ms. Granger, she stepped back and discreetly wiped her face while her student wiped her own face. Hermione gave her a rueful smile and with a nervous laugh asked if she could suggest any summer reading. Minerva gave her an affectionate smile and told her the seventh year Transfiguration textbook would be adequate. Hermione nodded and was about to turn and leave when the professor stopped her, Minerva's voice almost breaking as she told her to take care of herself. It looked as though Hermione was going to start crying again, but she quickly stepped towards Minerva once more for a quick hug before she turned and ran towards Harry and Ron. Harry looked up and stared at McGonagall as Hermione and Ron headed to the train. She raised a hand in farewell and his rose in return before he followed his friends. Soon all the students were gone and she wasn't sure if she would see them next year, but she knew for certain that she wouldn't see those three.

The silver tabby got up slowly, almost as though its hip was sore, and walked along the back side of the marble tomb, rubbing her head and body against it, purring the whole while. She leaped up onto the actual tomb and paced the length of it a couple of times before finally sitting down where his chest would be. Staring at the shadowed castle, the tabby continued her long vigil until the rosy hues of dawn could be seen on the horizon. She remembered when Albus told her that her unnaturally stiff posture gave her away as not really being a cat. That memory of a day just as sad reminded her of the Deluminator; she hoped that Albus had managed to give it to the person he intended it for. The tabby morosely got up and gave a final cheek rub and purr to where his head should be entombed in the marble then leaped down gracefully and trotted through the dewy grass towards the stone steps of the castle. Reaching the oaken doors, the silver tabby returned to her human form and gave a final glance towards the tomb. The marble seemed to glow in the half-light, almost as if it was illuminated. Blinking back repressed tears, Minerva whispered to her friend entombed in marble hoping that he could hear her wherever he was, "You were always there to illuminate my crossroads. Always. I miss you, Albus." With a swish of tartan and the thunk of the closing door, the venerable witch disappeared into the castle. As the sun rose and banished the shadows from sight, life continued on the grounds of Hogwarts.


End file.
